6 A Life to Save
The next morning, I woke up in the same position. I tried to change it, but a sudden sharp pain at the back of my neck made me collapse back onto the pillow.
You were already awake and holding a steaming cup of decaf coffee, just the way I liked it.
I grabbed your hand and brought it to my heart, deftly snatching the dark nectar from you, which I drank in one gulp.
As I handed you back the cup, I looked around contritely at the tiare petals scattered across the bed.
“Oh, no! It was supposed to be a romantic evening with fragrant petals on the bed, and instead I ruined everything, as always!” I said regretfully.
I looked at you: this time you had taken on a rather serious expression.
It was clear that you didn’t approve of what I’d done the night before.
How could I blame you? Getting drunk over a silly game really hadn’t been a good idea.
I resolved to curb that childish tendency that sometimes got the better of me; but if I did, would you still love me?
Probably not, but I decided to rein in my childish exuberance, because I really was going overboard.
You came back to sit next to me, and I took the opportunity to try to make it up to you.
I started tugging at your arm. It was something I did when I couldn’t find the words and was seeking attention.
You didn’t move a muscle, and I realized I had to change my strategy, so I started acting like a little kitten.
Finally, the bear slumbering inside you emerged from the hibernation where he’d been hiding.
You grabbed me and started kissing me passionately. That was exactly what I wanted, but I hadn’t had the courage to make the first move. It wouldn’t have been easy for me to come out of my den, but I would have put all my effort into learning to love you.
The lingering scent of alcohol from the night before must have already faded, yet I felt strange, as if my strength were about to fail me.
Your kisses were plunging me into a stormy sea.
I was at the mercy of the waves, and you—who were supposed to be my lifeboat—were instead causing me to sink into a sea of pleasure from which I couldn’t resurface.
You’d caught me off guard in a moment of mental and physical weakness.
You knew it was the only way to get the better of me and my shyness.
Your increasingly bold kisses were taking my breath away.
I closed my eyes to gather my thoughts, but my brain had inexplicably shut down and was no longer sending signals to my body.
I had no choice but to rely on my instincts, letting them take over for my mind.
I’d tried to imagine what I’d do if faced with the inevitable, but I never would have thought I’d feel such intense emotion.
I wanted to die in your arms right then and there.
I asked myself, frightened, if it were possible to die of love; at that moment, I was no longer sure of anything.
The first tears welled up almost silently, and I prayed to faint right then and there before you noticed and perhaps teased me.
The emotions you were making me feel were slowly killing me, kiss after kiss, caress after caress.
I wanted to beg you to stop, but I knew that if you did, I’d then beg you to keep going.
I felt caught between two fires, so intensely was I burning with passion.
Your eyes seemed spellbound, determined not to give me a moment’s respite while our souls were making love.
There are moments when you think about giving up and feel like you can’t go on.
You feel powerless in the face of life’s meaning and let yourself be swept away by the ever-raging current.
There’s nothing to hold on to, and you just hope you won’t get hurt.
That’s exactly how I was feeling in your arms, and I did nothing to escape the fervor of your kisses or the delicate caress of your hands on my skin, which shivered at your every touch.
I was losing all sense of myself as I gave myself completely to you, forever.
Dawn peeked through the drawn curtains of the bungalow, catching us still in each other’s arms. My face was pressed against your heart, unconsciously listening to every beat; your hands, unaware, cupped my breasts. We’d fallen asleep late at night, and both our lips were curved into a gentle smile.
I was awakened late in the afternoon by a sweet kiss. Your voice enveloped me like a security blanket as you whispered, “Good morning, sweetheart.”
As I lifted my eyelids, afraid of finding myself immersed in one of those unreal daydreams I often had, I was bathed in the radiance of your splendid smile. This time I had no excuse for not being able to remember everything; on the contrary, I tried to hold onto the memory for as long as possible.
“My infinite love,” I managed to say without blushing, “tell me you’re real, please!”
I saw your lips try to part to answer me, but your teary eyes and the embrace that followed took the place of the unspoken words.
Often a gesture is worth more than a thousand words, and your reaction filled me with immense joy.
I couldn’t have wished for anything else; nothing was more important to me than you, and nothing ever would be.
This made me reflect; I saw it as a sign of a destiny already written, one of which we knew nothing.
As I held you close, I turned my gaze wistfully toward the glass door that opened onto the beach.
The horizon was rippled by menacing waves crashing furiously against the coral reef.
The ocean looked quite choppy, and the wind was almost howling as it tried to force its way violently through the fronds of the palm trees, blowing a few leaves right into the room.
Dark clouds were gathering rapidly, preparing to unleash their fury in what looked like a tropical storm.
Although I knew it wouldn’t last long, nature’s violent outbursts always filled me with a sense of awe.
I was about to turn back toward you to enjoy the clarity of your gaze when I thought I heard a cry for help coming from the sea.
I stood up, worried, and went out onto the beach, squinting to scan the horizon carefully.
My strange behavior prompted you to come over, wrap an arm around my waist, and ask if something was wrong.
I pressed myself against you to let you know everything was fine, even though my face betrayed my barely concealed concern.
Your expression grew somber as you asked if I still loved you.
Your question surprised me so much that I started crying: “Darling, what are you saying?” I replied, my voice breaking with emotion. “I love you more than my own life. If you see me looking worried, it’s because I thought I heard a desperate voice coming from the sea.”
As if to underscore the truth of what I’d just said, a muffled cry for help reached us, mingled with the gusts of wind that were growing increasingly violent.
We turned in unison toward the expanse of the sea, and for a split second, between one wave and the next, we thought we saw a windsurf board with its sail fallen into the water.
In my mind, the board had taken on the appearance of a seagull with a broken wing, and without a moment’s hesitation, I ran and plunged into the waters of the lagoon, where the waves barely managed to ripple the surface.
Your repeated calls for me to get out of the water reached me like distant echoes as I stared unwaveringly at my destination, aware that a life needed to be saved.
My powerful strokes cut through the water as I swam against the wind, trying not to swallow any water.
I swam furiously, thinking about when this vacation would end, hoping that the dream wouldn’t also shatter against the rocks of everyday life.
My legs began to ache as I was now just a few meters from the coral reef, but I kept swimming fast, straight toward my goal.
When I reached the windsurf board, I saw a pair of tiny hands clinging to the wooden edge of the board behind a little blond head. I helped the child—who looked no older than ten—climb onto the board, unhooked the mast, and began pushing the makeshift raft toward shore.
A couple of boats were catching up to me; evidently, you had alerted the staff on shore. We met halfway, and the boy was hoisted aboard and wrapped in a dry towel.
Declining the offer of a ride, I continued swimming toward the shore, where you were waiting for me with some anxiety.
I reached the shore so utterly exhausted that my legs were shaking.
I felt your strong arms lift me up, and I closed my eyes, exhausted, as you carried me to the bedroom.
I barely managed to drag myself to the shower and, sighing, surrendered myself to the stream of scalding water.
I was in desperate need of aromatherapy, and keeping my eyes closed the whole time, I reached toward a small niche set into the wall where the scented shower gel bottles were usually kept. Finding nothing there, I asked you to bring me the bottle with the passion fruit scent.
I expected you to appear at the edge of the little door to hand it to me, but to my great surprise, I distinctly heard the door close and felt your embrace beneath the warm stream of water, with one hand raised in a victory sign, clutching the much-desired bottle.
“I brought you the passion fruit shower gel just as you asked,” you said with a tender look, “but I thought it would be nice to add a little of my own passion to it.”
How could I possibly respond to such a gesture? I’d experienced the kisses of salt water with you, and now I was losing myself in those of fresh water, made all the sweeter by your deep love.
The shower with you proved to be a cure for the exhaustion I’d been feeling. I never would have thought that taking one together could be so romantic, and when we turned off the water, I almost felt sorry to see it end.
We wrapped ourselves in bathrobes and stretched out on the bed. Amid the feather pillows, we continued to exchange affection like cats in love, purring and calling each other by nicknames that seemed straight out of *One Thousand and One Nights*.
Evening fell over the island, and we began to feel a bit peckish. The exhaustion from saving the child seemed to have vanished, and I thought that a good meal would help me regain my strength completely.